Blend
by MiaDancer14
Summary: New chapter up, titled The Penseive. Harry faints twice, oh goody, the Dursleys die, oh no! and Sirius and Remus watch James and Lily kiss. Yay! *jumps up and down excitedly*
1. My Wonderful Disclaimer

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Disclaimer: …I do not own J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, or Draco Malfoy, or anybody else in the series… no matter how much I want to (if you _don't_ want Draco and Harry alike after looking at Rhysenn's fan art website, then you're crazy in my book). But I will never have them. *sigh* Oh well. A girl can always dream, can't she?

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I just wrote that Disclaimer so that I wouldn't have to put it in each chapter (though it's in the prologue, until I feel up to deleting it and reposting the chapter, but right now I don't). I'm feeling lazy, can you tell?

~Mia

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	2. Prologue

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Title: Blend

By: Mia

Date Started: 4/7/03

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Date Finished: 

Disclaimer: …I do not own J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, or Draco Malfoy, or anybody else in the series… no matter how much I want to (if you _don't_ want Draco and Harry alike after looking at Rhysenn's fan art website, then you're crazy in my book). But I will never have them. *sigh* Oh well. A girl can always dream, can't she?

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AN: Well, it's another slash (duh). Draco/Harry… I'm sorry, but I can't help but start another one. It'll be different than Mushy and Slushy—I don't know if it'll be angst, though.

Prologue 

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The boy stared into the darkness. His long black hair, newly grown out and a bit past his earlobes, rustled. The noise startled his senses and made him more alert. He peered into the shadows, trying to see whatever was making its way toward him. Goose bumps were spreading across his skin, mostly across his shoulders. It felt as if ghostly fingers were dancing across them.

Harry whirled around. His eyes widened considerably, and he took in a huge intake of breath. He exhaled, gasped, and composed himself, then glared in the face of the enemy. "Malfoy," he spat, taking care to make his voice sound cold and clipped.

"Harry," the silver-haired boy replied, to Harry's surprise. His voice was soft, and—almost scared? 

"What are you doing here?" Harry said, the cold of his voice lost in the face of his confusion. "What do you want with me?"

"I need your help—" the Slytherin began, but not before Harry had brushed past him, heading in the opposite direction. "I can't believe you're even daring _to ask for my help," he replied, without looking back._

Draco, looking pained in his haste, ran after Harry and turned him around. Harry shivered at the sensation of Draco's fingers on his skin again, and suddenly grey-blue eyes were staring into his green ones.

****

It's funny how you can look at someone's eyes for seven years, and never really see them.

__

Harry started. Where had that thought come from? Certainly not him. He looked at Draco suspiciously. The slightly shorter boy only laughed. The sound was quickly cut short, but Harry couldn't help but notice how nice it sounded. 

Draco was looking at Harry. He was noticing things, too; he was noticing that Harry's ears were pricked for any suspicious noises. His eyes were strained, trying to observe Harry's muscles without seeming obvious. He was also noticing how gangly Harry was—how slender, almost in a womanly way. He looked up.

"You're crooked."

Harry started. "What?!" _he exploded, the pretense of all fair play gone from his mind. "What did you just say to me, Malfoy?" he said in a dangerous tone, his green emerald eyes shooting invisible sparks at the Slytherin._

Draco had the grace to look shameful, but he had his pride, too. He smiled, his mouth curving nicely on his face. Harry's rage subsided as he stared at Draco's face, saw the rare, true smile, and wondered why he didn't do it more often. He would have a lot more admirers if he did.

"How can you say that? How can you just look at me and say that?" Harry demanded.

"The way you hold yourself," Draco replied, his eyes flicking up as he peered over his eyelashes and giving Harry a childish grin. Realization dawned in the black-haired boy's face.

"You—you're—"

"Gay?"

"I wouldn't say that, exactly," Harry said, laughing—a little nervously, albeit. "Draco, what are you doing here?" he said, suddenly back down to business. His eyes were narrowing into little angry slits, and Draco couldn't help but think,

****

He's attractive even when he's angry

__

before Harry's hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Why are you doing that?" he demanded. "Why?"

"Doing what?" Draco asked innocently. He wasn't sure what Harry meant by this last statement.

"Why do you always make me feel funny?"

The words were out before Harry could stop them. Draco's eyes widened in shock, and they were staring at each other, their eyes piercing into each other, green versus grey, and then Harry blurted,

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course not," Draco said, smiling sarcastically.

"Don't do that."

"Aren't we feeling conversational today?" Draco replied. Harry looked at him, almost beseechingly, and he stopped. Sarcasm left his mind, and he was staring at Harry, and, he couldn't stop himself, he just—

**reached out and kissed me.**

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Draco recoiled, in shock and surprise. Harry jumped back in a different direction, falling over his own feet in astonishment, and he looked back up into Draco's face and realized… he was shaking.

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He's so perfect. 

__

Draco leaned forward. Harry didn't back away—he took this as a good sign. He got onto his hands and knees. Harry was half-frowning in surprise, **can't believe he's taking the time to make sure I'm okay, get down on his own hands and knees and dirty his perfect body, **_and Draco kissed him again._

This was becoming a swirl of darkness and greyblue and Dracodracodraco, and he could hardly see anything—he was sure his glasses had been knocked askew by Draco's hands—but he didn't want him to stop, oh no, he didn't want it to stop, none of it.

He didn't want the dream to stop.

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Harry Potter sat up in bed, shuddering. The last traces of the dream were fading, and all he could remember was a smiling face in front of him, before lips he had expected to be cold, but were actually quite warm, were on his own and they were exploring him, trying to help him up and kiss him at the same time. He was surprised at Draco's tenderness in these dreams…

Too bad they weren't real.

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AN: That's the first chapter! I hope you liked it! ~Mia

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	3. Oh, the Irony Of It All

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A/N: Up goes another chapter! I smell resentment. – Or that could be my friend's delicious spaghetti. Either way… – There is close-to-none slash in this chapter, but I'm sorry, I had to make it that way. It helps the story flow (it's the chapter where Harry hates the Dursleys, Dudley makes fun of Harry and gets glared at, yadda ya… I thought it was rather funny myself.)

Blend

Oh, the Irony of It All

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"BOY! GET DOWN HERE, NOW!"

Harry rolled out of his bed with a thudding boom that resounded throughout the room and made his eardrums vibrate painfully. He rubbed his aching head and stared angrily at the door, trying to burn it down with his eyes. He hated it so much here, he could hardly feel the rage anymore. There was just a cold, numbing sensation that reached down to his bones, and made him want to shiver constantly—except in those dreams. 

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Those dreams will be the death of me!

Harry shook his head slightly, his green eyes searching the room for the one person who wouldn't be there, and would never be there, at least, he hoped not. Then Draco would have another thing to make fun of him about. Dreamdraco, of course, wasn't real… and he never would be.

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But I can always dream.

Yes. Dreams were fun. Harry sighed, ran a hand through his hair to try to straighten it, and gave up. He stood, stretching his long legs as he did so. He was so tall and it was eerily strange to him. A sudden summer growth spurt had hit Harry harder than anything, and he was noticing that he looked much more like a… well—_man_, than a boy these days. He was still gangly, sure, but he doubted that was something he could change, ever. 

It was the other things he was noticing—he finally had muscles, which he had silently rejoiced about while Dudley stared at him in amazement, that first day back during the summer since fifth year. Harry had just brushed it off; maybe Dudley had finally noticed his unhappy expression, the one that anyone would hold after his best friends told him they were dating. 

Not like he liked Hermione—or indeed, even _Ron_; he had to laugh at that. He just felt resentful, that they could find 'loves' at a time like this, at the time of Voldemort's return. He supposed he felt sort of—jealous, not of them themselves, but that they could still think about dating while Voldemort was making more murder plans, in which the top victim was the one and only Harry.

****

No one cares… they pretend, but they don't really mean it. Why else would they go and start _dating_, of all things, behind my back? And then, two months after the start of their _secret_ relationship, they come and tell me, and expect me to jump up and down with joy?

Harry felt angry—but most of all, just frustrated. Life was just too complicated sometimes, no matter how clichéd that sounded. He almost felt like laughing at the sheer insanity of it all, but knew Dudley would come upstairs and suggest that he really start attending St. Brutus'—but it was tempting all the same.

The Boy Who Grew turned and tried to look into the mirror; however, that was hard, since he was taller than it. "Damn!" he cursed, "did I grow overnight? _Again_?" At first, he had liked being taller, though it had taken a while to get used to the power of his long legs and arms. Now, it was just annoying—he just kept growing and growing. He couldn't even see into the goddamned mirror now!

He sighed again, reached out, and refixated the mirror so that it was a head higher up on the wall. Hanging it back onto the nail proved to be disastrous, for Harry's attempt was incredibly stupid—he dropped it, and unfortunately, its landing spot was on his big toe. 

The result of this was an enraged Harry howling and hopping up and down, trying to twist around to see his toe. This _further_ resulted in him being tangled up in his lanky limbs, tripping over his own feet, and landing in a tumble on the floor, at his dearest cousin Dudley's feet.

Dudley stared at him for a minute, then just started laughing. Harry untangled himself, stood up, straightened himself up, and glared down at him. Dudley looked like he felt intimidated—he couldn't beat Harry up anymore, at least not now that Harry was standing up. It used to be the other way around, Dudley threateningly glowering down at Harry, while Harry glared back up. 

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Oh, the irony of it all. Harry's mouth curved into a half-smile. Finally he said something, "Dudley, shove off," and pushed past him, taking advantage of his legs to stride purposefully to the bathroom. 

Now the day really started.

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	4. Oh SHIT!

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A/N: Hehehehehehehehehe… *cough* Sorry, I just can't seem to stop LAUGHING! *giggles insanely* Er… well, here goes…!! 

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Blend

Oh _Shit_!

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Draco Malfoy looked up at the ceiling. He was feeling queasy, due to some… well, let's just say, _disturbing_ dreams he'd had about a certain black-haired Golden Boy. Not to mention, he probably had the flu—and—he shuddered to think of what his father had tried to do to him. …No, he couldn't think of that right now. Draco shivered.

The silver-haired Slytherin rolled over and glared into nothing, wondering what the object of his dreams was doing right now.

((~^*^~))

Said boy was standing in the middle of the Dursleys' kitchen, simply staring at his uncle and aunt, who, surprisingly, weren't yelling or saying anything mean and spiteful. They were doing the same thing Harry himself was doing—just standing there, stock-still, _gawking._

"Well? What?" Harry said impatiently, breaking the silence. "You called me downstairs! What do you _want?_" Harry's tone broke Uncle Vernon out of his reverie, and he spat furiously, "Thanks to your _tone_, you ungrateful prat of a boy, you will be doing the house chores—"

Harry, instead of showing anger, only surveyed him curiously. "I've _already_ been doing them," he pointed out.

"—let me finish, you little…"

"Vernon! Not in front of _Dudley!_" Aunt Petunia had rushed across the kitchen to the foot of the stairs, where Dudley was standing with a dumbfounded look on his face. Harry knew he'd heard swear words many times before, so

****

how come he looks like that right now? he wondered. **Oh well. **Harry quickly shrugged it off, and turned his attention back to Uncle Vernon, who had just remembered him. 

A vacant expression crossed his face, and he muttered, "…boy…punishment!" Then there was a crackling in the air—and it felt like magic.

Harry's ears pricked, and suddenly he was in tune with his whole body. This was _dire._ He had to get Dudley and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon out of here because something was coming, something was…

…already here. 

Harry whirled around as the door burst open. A black-cloaked figure, similar to a Dementor, without the cold feeling (maybe the fear was still there, but it wasn't quite like the way a Dementor sucked the happy feelings out of a place, Harry reasoned), entered the room. Its cloak swished as it turned to Harry—he couldn't see the expression on the figure's face, but he could tell it was pleased.

Darkly pleased.

((~^*^~)) 

"_Minerva!" _

Professor McGonagall's head whipped around, and she watched Professor Sprout stumble into The Three Broomsticks, where she sat at a table enjoying her Butterbeer. No matter how childish the drink was, she quite liked it. She _had_ been, anyway, before Sprout had to run in and—

She was babbling now, right in front of Minerva, with the rest of the Three Broomsticks staring at them. "Calm down," Minerva whispered, indicating their onlookers with a tilt of her head.

"Oh, right." Sprout sat down and then leapt up, shrieking, "PRIVET DRIVE IS UNDER ATTACK!! DEATH EATERS HAVE MADE THEIR WAY TO PRIVET DRIVE!! HARRY POTTER IS IN DAAAAANGER!!"

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"WHAT?!" 

There was a clatter. Minerva had kicked over her chair in her haste to rise, and there were screams in The Three Broomsticks as the people realized what the Hogwarts Herbology Professor had just shouted out.

"Get help _now!_" Minerva shrieked, "I'm going to go and see—if I can help—go! Quick!" Professor Sprout wheeled around and sprinted in the opposite direction, while McGonagall Apparated with a _pop!_

((~^*^~))

"Blargh." Harry Potter awoke with a start, feeling horribly hung-over, which was strange—considering he didn't remember getting drunk. **Wait a minute, what am I thinking? **Harry wondered. He turned his head slightly, and realized he was in a jail cell, of sorts. Perhaps it was a bit spacier, but no less comfortable…

There was a low moan from his other side, and another realization hit Harry: the Dursleys were here too. **Oh God, what are they going to _say?!_**

"Mum_my, _my head hurts," moaned Dudley as he came awake. He turned his head, and his eyes widened considerably as fear filled them. His face was quickly going pale. Harry gave him a hollow grin.

"Now you know how I feel all the time."

"What…?" Dudley trailed off, then started again, "…you've been through this ever since you started going to—to—Warthogs?"

"It's _Hogwarts_, and yes," Harry said stiffly. His jaw was hurting too much for him to talk very fast. He idly wondered what the Death Eater, for there was now no doubt that that was what the dark-cloaked figure had been, had done to him.

****

Oh, _shit! _Ohshitohshitohshit! Panic danced through Harry's mind, and he whispered to Dudley, "You do realize that he'll probably kill us all?" 

"He—who—what?!" Dudley said fearfully, a bit louder than Harry would have wanted.

"Shut up," he said. The terror in Dudley's voice was only made more tangible by the boy's shaking. Harry almost felt… _sorry_ for him now. "Do you want them to come earlier than they'd—"

"What in tarnation?" 

Uncle Vernon had awoken.

"Shhhhh!" Dudley shushed his father in a subdued tone. His eyes kept flicking to Harry and back to the dirt floor of the dungeon. Uncle Vernon looked at Harry, then said angrily, "This is _your_ fault. Your… your kind of people will be here soon to—"

"Will you _please_ be quiet," Aunt Petunia's voice squeaked out. 

Everyone turned to her, slightly surprised. Even Harry. But Aunt Petunia went on, "Lily told me about this, she said, she said…" Her voice was trembling, but Harry smiled encouragingly at her—feeling surprised at his own actions himself; he could tell by the looks on his uncle and cousin's faces that they felt the same way. "She told me… her and that… that… James," she said, her face relaxing as she let herself say Harry's father's name. 

"She told me that she and James had been locked into a—Hagirid's—hut together and then someone's head popped up in the fire and she was wondering who it was and he said Volde—" Here she stopped. She had been going fast, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked beseechingly at Harry. "Please don't make me say the name… she was always scared of saying it. I remember—she called him You-Know-Who. Everyone was frightened of him, even my brave Lady Lil,…she…she's…the most courageous person I know. _Knew_," Petunia corrected herself hastily. 

Harry and company sat, gawking in astonishment, but Petunia plunged on. "The only person that wasn't scared of… You-Know-Who… was, was, James. And Lily told me that's why she fell in love with him. Because of his—his—his—his bravery." 

"Wow," muttered Harry under his breath. Then he turned to his aunt. "You _didn't_ hate her, after all," he said softly.

"No. I could never hate Lily," sighed Petunia. Tears were pouring down her face, and Harry almost felt like hugging her, but even that would be too awkward, _even_ in a situation like this. Suddenly, he stiffened. 

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There's someone coming.

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"Harry Potter…"

Petunia screamed. Vernon let out a hoarse shout of terror, and Dudley had a frozen look of horror etched on his face. Harry only sat and waited it out. Voldemort had a 'thing' with saying his name, it seemed.

A figure appeared in front of the bars of the cell, and Harry's scar burned. He clapped a hand to his forehead and glared in defiance at Voldemort.

"Lord Moldywart," he said mockingly, sucking in his urge to scream as the pain in his scar worsened. Voldemort was now unlocking the door to the cell, and was sweeping in… **He's coming in he's coming in what the hell am I supposed to do ohshitohshitohshit oh _shit!_**

Beside him, Dudley was whimpering, curled up between his parents, who were frozen, their eyes huge with fright. Voldemort's head turned as he observed the three Dursleys, looking quite pathetic in their fright.

"I think you really need to stop stalking me," Harry glowered, struggling to stand up. After a few minutes, he found that he was actually almost the height of Voldemort. Even in the situation, this fact didn't cease to amaze him. He would have laughed—of course, right now that would be questionable, seeing as he was about to be killed by the Dark Lord.

"Oh, leave him alone, ya great big fat son of a bitch!"

Harry wheeled around. The sight that caught his eyes was shocking, to say the least. A quite familiar-looking redheaded woman was glaring at Voldemort defiantly, her hair in a disarray and her green eyes sharp and angry. "How many times have I _told_ you," she said impatiently, tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest. "_Leave my son alone!"_

"Gah." Harry sat down with a plop. Petunia, however, rose with a shriek of, **_"Lily!" _**Lily's angry look vanished as she smiled and waved at Petunia and Harry, the latter of whom had gone a sickly shade of astonished white, like that of a ghost's. 

"In the flesh," she said, smiling cheerily at her sister, brother-in-law, nephew, and son (most especially). 

"Lily," Voldemort sighed, moving closer to her and reaching out a hand to put it on her chin. She slapped it away furiously, and strode purposefully toward the jail cell, only to be held back by Voldemort. Harry and company watched with appalled eyes.

"Harry, James—"

"—is dead," Voldemort cut in, ignoring the look of pain that filled Lily's face at Voldemort's statement. Harry's hopes—that had been rising—were dashed to the ground and cut to pieces further, by Lily's tears, which were starting to roll out of her eyes.

"You bastard," she hissed, "if you go near my son or my family, I swear, I will…"

"Do what? _Kill_ me?"

"No!" shrieked Lily. "I won't kill you. That's for Harry to do! But I will leave you! I have business to attend to and there's nothing you can do to stop me, so there!" Ignoring the fact that she sounded incredibly childish and blaming it on a fifteen-year imprisonment, Lily ran to the jail cell, punching Voldemort when he tried to stop her. Harry couldn't help but feel like laughing when he saw that Voldemort was defeated for a second, not due to a curse, but to a simple slap; his mother's, nonetheless. 

Lily swung the cell door open with a creak, snatched Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia, and flung herself to Harry's feet. Harry looked at her confusedly for one second before she seized his hand.

They were thrown backward by the force of the portkey. Harry could tell it was a portkey by the way it yanked him up by his navel and threw him, but the question was, what was the solid object? He hadn't seen Lily pick up anything…

Unless it was _him._

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A/N: Yep, well… sort of a cliffie, but I couldn't help myself. *pops some chocolate in her mouth and giggles* Please review! 


	5. The Penseive

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A/N: Lalalalalalalalalalalalala!!! Hehee. 

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Blend

The Penseive

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Draco Malfoy was currently asleep. He was sprawled across his canopied bed in his huge, luxurious room. That was not surprising in itself. The surprising thing was, his hand was moving. It was carefully writing on a scrap of paper, and if one took a glance at it, they would be shocked, for it wasn't messy or hurried in the slightest. It looked, in fact, as if he had spent several hours of work on it. And who knows? Perhaps he did. 

What wasn't so obvious to the naked eye was exactly _what_ he was writing. It would have seemed nonsense to a Muggle, or even a wizard, but to a wizened warlock such as Albus Dumbledore himself, he would have recognized it as the most ancient language of all the world, Muggle and wizard. But of course, the Headmaster of Hogwarts wasn't standing there reading it; indeed, he was nowhere near the Malfoy Manor. 

Actually, he was quite a few miles away.

((~^*^~))

"Harry Potter, did you hear, his home has been attacked—"

"_Attacked_? That's not possible!" 

"Oh yeah, well I heard it straight from the mouth of Minerva McGonagall! Hogwarts professor, you know."

"_Really_?"

"Yes!" 

"That must be right, then!"

"Exactly what I've been trying to tell you!"

All around The Three Broomsticks, people were bickering over whether the rumor that McGonagall had Apparated to Privet Drive to help Harry Potter was true. The debates carried on into full-fledged fist fights, at least, until a certain Albus Dumbledore arrived at the scene. 

"Everyone, calm!" he said, in a loud and authoritative manner. Professor Sprout, who had been trying to shepherd everyone into the false illusion of safety, sighed in relief and sat down. "What is going on here?" Dumbledore turned to Sprout.

"Headmaster… the wards on Privet Drive have been breached…"

There was a _pop_! as Minerva McGonagall arrived back on the scene, breathless from an uncertain exertion. "What is this she is saying?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Harry—Potter—he's gone—tried to find him—couldn't—Portkey?—his relatives—gone—" she panted. Dumbledore, however, knew exactly what she meant and sounded the alarm. Taking out his wand and talking quickly at the same time, he told McGonagall and Sprout to find all of the Hogwarts professors, and he would round up as many qualified wizards as he could into a search party.

Little did they know, Harry Potter was much closer than they would have ever expected.

((~^*^~))

**__**

"GAAAAAHHHHHH!!" 

Harry was falling, and then he wasn't. He slammed into a wall and slid down it, panting breathlessly, his eyes shut tight with pain. He could see red… Slowly they opened, and he looked around expectantly for his mother. Instead, he saw Voldemort. And he was laughing.

He was saying something now—Harry tried to focus in, it might be important… perhaps he was reciting the Killing Curse… but no, there was no green… with a final effort to regather his thoughts, Harry sat up half-way and bumped into Dudley, who wasn't moving at all.

"Dudley?" Was he dead? Harry's eyes widened as he saw Dudley's body. It was frozen into place, his eyes open but not alive, just dully staring into nothing. A shiver wracked his spine, and he lifted his gaze to where Vernon and Petunia were sprawled on the floor nearby. Suddenly Harry felt like vomiting.

"You—you killed them," he said faintly. 

Then everything went black.

Again.

((~^*^~))

Harry was shaken awake by an unfamiliar person. He blinked blood and tears away from his eyelids and wondered how he must look. His hair would be in awful state right now, and he hated to think of what his face must be like. After all, he hadn't brushed his teeth or washed his face for who-knows-how-long. 

****

How long was I asleep, anyway? he wondered. But he was being dragged up, and he looked at the black-cloaked figure and felt a tingle of recognition. Yanking himself away, he stopped by the door of the prison cell. The cloaked figure was smaller than the other one, the one who had taken him to the first prison cell… **the Mum thing must have been an illusion, **he reasoned. 

"Wormtail!" he hissed furiously, but something painful was injected into the palm of his hand, and Harry swayed on his feet. His vision was growing fuzzy, and black crept up in the corners.

****

Oh no, not _again, _he thought resignedly, before he dropped, unconscious. Unconscious of everything—including the small hooded figure that caught him and dragged him away.

((~^*^~))

"We have to get to Harry," Sirius said frantically. He was pacing impatiently, his hands stuffed into his pockets, a habit he'd caught from James. Remus was sitting in a chair, smoking a cigarette, a habit _he'd _gotten from James, who'd taken up smoking when his parents died, quietly watching him.

"We just have to," he muttered to himself, staring out the window. Slowly his gaze turned to Remus', who was calm and collected even when his boyfriend was not. "Re_mmy, _I hate being helpless," he said, sighing. "It seems we always are with Harry."

"Did you have a dream last night?" Remus said suddenly.

"A dream?" Sirius said, frowning in concentration. "What kind of dream?"

"About Lily?"

"You've been dreaming about Lily?"

Remus winced. So did Sirius. He remembered when he said this to James, when he'd come to Remus and Sirius and confided in them about his crush on Lily. They both remembered his exact wording. _You guys, I think I have a crush on Evans. You know, Lily? I had a dream about her._

Lilyflower? Sirius had said bemusedly. _You've been dreaming about _Lily? _You _like _her_?

__

What's wrong with her? James had replied defensively. _She's beautiful. Her hair, have you seen how golden it turns when it's wet? When she went swimming in the lake with her friends, and we were flying, I saw her hair before I saw her. It was so pretty… and her eyes… they're so intense—like green oceans. And she's so _smart, _Siri, Remmy. She's bloody brilliant._

Well, we'll love you and whoever you choose, Remus had decided for Sirius, and the next day, James had asked Lily out.

"Well…," Remus said thoughtfully. "I dreamt of Harry and Lily."

In the next instant, Sirius was right in his face, his blue eyes wide open. "You dreamt about Harry? Was it a _Vision?"_

He knew that sometimes Dark creatures had visions in their dreams—Harry was included in this even if he wasn't a Dark creature—and that sometimes Remus' dreams were Visions, real-live ones, unlike that phony fraud Trelawney's. "I don't know," Remus was frowning now too. "I saw him in a dungeon. Voldemort was there, and Harry's relatives… you know, Lily's sister and her family?"

Sirius nodded and sat down slowly in an armchair beside Remus. Remus continued with his tale, staring at the arm of Sirius' chair while he spoke. "And Voldemort was reaching for Harry when all of a sudden—here, I'll just show you. I put the dream into the Penseive."

"Well, why didn't you just _say _so?" Sirius leapt up and bounded to another room, then came back holding a silvery orb with memories and pictures floating all over it. He poked it and whispered, "Dream about Harry."

This was a very special Penseive. Sirius and Remus took good care of it, because it had been a wedding present for James and Lily, one of the only things they didn't keep at their house just in case something bad happened. And something bad _had _happened, but the two preferred not to think on that.

Anyway, they were going to keep it at Sirius' house, but Sirius spoke against this, saying _What if something bad happened to _me? So next they'd thought of Remus, and they'd left it in a secret cupboard in Remus' cottage. However, the werewolf hadn't touched it for thirteen years, until Sirius came to visit and "lay low at Lupin's", as Dumbledore had told him to. 

Then, they'd rediscovered it and all of the long-lost memories, memories that made their hearts ache and their eyes tear up with mirth, but most of all it made them a bit happier to know that at least they still had memories of James… even if they didn't have the real him.

Remus sighed as a dream Lily had had about Harry floated up in front of them.

James!_ Lily yelled from the bedroom._

Yeah!_ James yelled back from the kitchen._

Come here!_ She was standing over Harry's crib, watching him sleep, looking a bit worried. Harry's eyes fluttered open and he tried to sit up. Lily helped him and smiled a little. James appeared behind her shoulder. She turned around, and they kissed. _

Remus and Sirius smiled, tiny, tentative ghosts of the goofy smiles they'd had in the days. It had been a long time since they'd smiled so cheesily. It was just how James was smiling now.

Whassamatter, Lil? _he questioned. Then his gaze turned to Harry. _Hiya, Harry, _he said, tickling his son's stomach and laughing heartily as Harry giggled. _Another dream, Lily? _he asked, his voice changing worriedly as he turned back to Lily, not before he'd picked up Harry and settled him on his hip as he'd seen Lily do._

Lily tried not to laugh as she thought how womanly James looked like that. He was very muscular, but very, very _skinny. If he had been a girl, Lily would have called that slender, or slim, but as it was…_

Padfoot and Moony couldn't help but laugh at the sight as well as Lily, who was dissolving into giggles right now. When Harry saw his mommy giggling, he started to gurgle happily as well. James looked confused.

But all too soon the dream was dissolving, and Remus looked at Sirius accusingly. Sirius just gave him an innocent look. Remus touched the Penseive and whispered, "_Recent _dream about Harry—last night." 

"Ah. You didn't tell me you had it last night," Sirius pointed out.

Remus hit him upside the head.

"Hey," Sirius said, hurt. "That was entirely unnecessary."

Remus made a move as if to hit him again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sirius said, backing away, grinning. "No need to get all feisty."

"Oh, shut up," Remus groaned.

A series of images floated up, and Sirius and Remus watched the scene unfold. They heard Lily's trademark insult, **_"Hey! Leave him alone, ya great big fat son of a bitch!" _**

When the dream stopped, ending with Harry falling to the floor, Sirius set the Penseive on the floor and eyed it nervously. Remus looked at Sirius and Sirius looked at Remus. Then they both looked at Jilly the Owl (they'd named him that for James' nickname Jimmy and Lily's name) and then they said in unison,

"Dumbledore."

****

A/N: Hope you liked! Sorry for the delay, and sorry if some of you were upset that Lily wasn't really alive… I decided to change it because it fits better into the story if Sirius and Remus don't have to deal with Lily being alive and James not. It just wouldn't be fair, ya know? And too many of you have read the last chapter for me to change it w/o making you guys resentful. (Who knows, maybe you'll still be resentful.) I hope not, though. Anyway, see ya next time! ~Mia

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